


Son of the Earth

by Misery



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Pendragon Returns, First Kiss, M/M, Poor Merlin, Waiting for Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misery/pseuds/Misery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is based on the picture of Merlin standing in a hollow tree, and the myths, where Merlin is imprisoned in a tree.<br/>---<br/>After Arthur has died, Merlin doesn't know what to do. So he waits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Son of the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> To Nicola and Daniela

After Arthur had died, Merlin felt the magic of the whole world crashing down on him. It soaked him like an icy rain shower, until he was gasping and spluttering for air. The ground seemed to be on fire, and the magic crawled under his toes, and up his legs like fat worms wriggling through the mud. Merlin wanted to scream, as the magic choked and stabbed and poisoned him, but he couldn’t.

He hadn’t any strength left. 

Unbearable pain engulfed him, blindfolding him. He tried to move, but he couldn’t even lift his arm. His muscles were twitching and trembling with exhaustion.   
Everything was too much.  
He couldn’t take it anymore.   
And suddenly he could hear his father’s voice, repeating the same words, he had spoken to him in the crystal cave:   
“You are a son of the earth, the sea, the sky. Magic is the fabric of this world, and you were born of that magic. You are magic itself.”

Slowly, he began to understand. Waves of dizziness washed over him. It didn’t only mean that he could never lose his powers. It also meant, he would always be a part of this world. He would never die. He was a thread of that fabric, unable to leave, unable to get away. He was a prisoner, chained to the earth, the sea and the sky. He couldn’t follow Arthur.   
Merlin felt drained. Empty, except for the magic still cursing through his veins.

He had failed.

He had failed, and this was his eternal punishment.  
Tears leaked from his unseeing eyes, and fell to the ground.  
He didn’t want to go on.  
And so he didn’t.

He had lost Arthur, his other half. The only one, who had made him whole. He had wiped out an entire army, and yet he had been too late to save Arthur from just one single sword.   
Merlin stood at the lakeshore, until the sun set somewhere behind the trees. The stars twinkled above him, as if they had heard about his failure, and were chatting about it.  
Water licked at his feet, but he didn’t care that he was cold. In the early morning, the island was hidden behind grey mist, slowly rising from the lake. It started to rain around noon, and Merlin’s fingers were stiff, as he tried to curl them.

The next day, a blue butterfly fluttered onto his shoulder, and stayed with him until the wind came, and blew it away.

The sun burnt his skin, and somewhere in the distance, Merlin could hear the low rumbling of thunder. And when lightning zig-zagged across the sky, he hoped it would strike him.   
He remembered the first snowflake dancing before him. 

He thought of Arthur, and of all the things he had wanted to show him. He thought of all the times, he had been scared and worried. He thought of the lies, and the betrayal. He thought of all the spells he had learned to save his life. He thought of the times, when he had been insulted, put into the stocks, and beaten. He thought of the pillows and cups Arthur had thrown at him. He thought of crackling campfires, the smell of wet leaves, and the comfortable warmth of his horse. He thought of the times, he had polished his armour, and helped him to get ready for a battle. He thought of the times, he had undressed him, and the smell of Gaius’ tinctures and ointments, he had used to treat the wounds.   
And he thought of Arthur dying in his arms. When he had looked at Merlin, the usual scorn, mistrust and doubt was gone. His eyes had been full of respect, understanding and love. 

A tired sigh escaped his lips. He thought of Kilgarrah, who had never returned.  
“When Albion’s need is greatest, Arthur will rise again,” the dragon had told him.   
What about his need for a friend? He needed Arthur. He needed him more than anything else.

Sometimes, when the weather was clear, Merlin could see the tiny boat, bobbing up and down, but never leaving the island’s coast.  
Merlin shook his head, closing his eyes.

His magic flared up inside of him, and a tiny, burning dragon stretched out its wings, and flew across the lake. Just like the one, he had shown Arthur.  
But Arthur didn’t come back.

A few years later, a plant had grown next to him. It had two bright green leaves, and one tender bud.  
There was no sign of Arthur, and the searing pain in his heart had subsided to a dull ache. Merlin did no longer feel the rain drumming on his head, or the biting wind slipping under his thin shirt. He didn’t feel the heat of the sun burning his skin and chapping his lips.

Sometime later, the plant had become a tiny tree, and poked him with its first twig, as if it demanded his attention.   
Merlin could barely hold his eyes open. He was tired. So tired. His magic had curled itself up in his guts, and wasn’t trying to tear him apart anymore.  
When the world was quiet, he whispered Arthur’s name, hoping he might hear it in the silence.  
Merlin blinked slowly, because something was different. It was the tree, holding its rustling leaves over him, protecting him from the sun.  
Exhausted, Merlin rested his back against the trunk. 

In the autumn, the leaves told Merlin their own fairytales and legends, while they fell from the branches and into the lake.

The tree died each winter.  
Merlin rubbed his face against the rough bark.

And when the first bird chirped in the morning sun, the tree reached higher into the sky, welcoming the spring.  
Merlin had gone quiet, his throat raspy and dry. His knuckles were bloody, from when he had felt a sudden rush of anger and hatred, and had slammed his fists into the tree over and over again, until he could hear the bones breaking.

Another night came and went, and Merlin had given up any hope.

The tree groaned, as it wriggled its roots underneath Merlin’s feet, ripping away the soles of his boots.

One day, Merlin thought he saw something glistening in the water, but it must have been his imagination. 

The summer smelled of sweet fruits and flowers, but Merlin had forgotten how to smile.

One morning, the lake became restless. Waves crashed against the sandy shore, hissing with excitement.  
The lake was dark, as if the night sky was still reflected in the surface of the water. Frightened, the sun hid behind some fluffy clouds.  
Arthur’s eyes shot open, and he panicked, as he realized he was underwater. Foul water entered his lungs, which he had opened in a surprised gasp. Arthur struggled, while his red cape tried to strangle him, pulling him to the bottom of the lake. Finally, his survival instinct kicked in, and he started to swim. His chest hurt from the lack of air, and soon his muscles were cramping.   
Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and he blinked rapidly. As he was about to pass out, and thought he couldn’t make it, he broke through the surface.  
Hastily, he sucked in air, his limbs trashing in the shallow water. Almost instantly, he began to cough, but he managed to drag himself out of the lake. Drained, he fell face forward in the sand, and stayed there. His chest heaved with every breath he took, legs still twitching.   
Groaning, he threw up more lake water, as he tried to sit up. Arthur closed his eyes, and waited until the dizziness passed, and his heart wasn’t racing that fast anymore. Slowly, he unfastened his cape, and looked around.

“Merlin?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. Arthur cleared his throat, and tried again.

“Merlin? Are you here?”

When he received no answer, he stood up. His legs were wobbly, and he swayed, feeling for the next tree for support. As soon as his fingers touched the bark, a jolt of pain shot through his arm, piercing his heart. It was different from any pain he had ever experienced. He could feel sadness, desperation, and loneliness gripping his insides and twisting them. Images flashed through his mind. He saw Mordred raising the sword against him. He saw his knights – friends – fighting with him against the Saxons. He saw the old sorcerer striking the enemy down. He saw his loyal servant sitting next to him, as if he had never left his side. He saw Merlin performing magic. He saw Merlin taking care of him. Merlin, who was carrying him, feeding him, holding him. He saw the tears in Merlin’s eyes, as he died.  
Arthur gasped, as he stared at the tree. His eyes widened, and he stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his cape.   
The tree had a face. Not any face. Merlin’s face.  
He was staring right at him, his blue eyes open, but unmoving. His lips were pressed together tightly.  
“Merlin?” Arthur asked disbelievingly. Merlin did not respond. 

Cautiously, Arthur raised his hand, and touched Merlin’s face. It was cold, his skin as dry as if it was made of parchment. “Merlin, what happened?” Arthur whispered, feeling the rough bark underneath his fingertips. The tree had swallowed his best friend. It had grown over him, trapping his body. Arthur let his eyes travel over the whole trunk. What he had first thought to be a gnarled branch was Merlin’s left hand. Slowly, Arthur grasped the stiff fingers, and squeezed.  
“Merlin, can you hear me? Please, Merlin,” he said.

Holding his breath, Arthur waited, and suddenly, he felt the tiniest movement. He looked at their entwined fingers. Merlin had curled his thumb, pressing it against the back of Arthur’s hand.  
“Hang in there. I’m trying to get you out.”

Arthur had no idea, how he could convince that tree to let go off his friend. This had to be a work of magic, and Arthur didn’t know much about curses and spells, and how to break them.  
He could get Gaius, but what if Merlin needed help now?

Arthur sighed, watching his friend. Merlin blinked, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Before Arthur could say anything, Merlin had cracked his mouth open.  
“ ’thur?” His voice was no more than a faint whisper, and Arthur would have missed it, if he hadn’t stared at him.

“Yes, Merlin. I’m here. I’m back.”

More tears ran down Merlin’s cheeks, trickling over the bark.  
“Waited. So long,” Merlin croaked, his lips barely moving.

Ignoring his friend’s pleads, Arthur said: “How do I get you out of the…tree?”

But Merlin didn’t seem to listen to him, because he continued weeping. “I waited. Arthur. Waited.”

Arthur shook his head. This was not helping.   
“Merlin, can’t you use magic?” he tried, but his friend’s eyes had drifted shut, and his mumbling became incoherent.

“You really are an idiot,” Arthur sighed, before he slumped down next to the tree, careful not to touch it. He had to do something. There had to be a reason, why he was back. Arthur didn’t remember much. He had felt cold and lonely, and he knew had abandoned Merlin, and his heart had throbbed, although his wound had disappeared, leaving nothing but a faint scar.  
It had been strange. Perhaps he should have been mad at Merlin for lying to him, but he was glad, his friend was at his side in the darkest hours – as he always had been. He was glad, Merlin was there, as the death pulled at him with its long fingers. He had been scared, but knowing that Merlin held him in his arms had calmed him down.   
Then he had come to, surrounded by an everlasting white fog.  
A voice had spoken to him. “It is time, King Arthur.”   
He had tried to ask, who was talking to him. He had tried to look around. He had even tried to get up, but he had no control over his body.  
The next thing he knew was being underwater.

“Usually, you would tell me what to do, Merlin,” Arthur chuckled, letting his fingers trail over the hilt of his sword. “But I don’t know how to defeat a magical tree…”   
All of a sudden, he jumped to his feet, unsheathing the sword. Merlin had given him the answer. When he had killed Morgana, he had told her that this sword had been forged in a Dragon’s breath (Arthur didn’t really want to know how Merlin had done that). It wasn’t a mortal blade. It was much more. Arthur raised his arm, and brought the sword down hard. It sliced through the tree, as if it was made of cheese. Splinters of wood flew through the air, and Merlin clenched his hand, digging his nails into his palm. Nervously, Arthur licked his lips. He hoped he hadn’t hurt his friend. When he lifted his arm again, the tree began to glow red. The leaves fell from the branches all at once, raining down on Arthur. They were brown and withered, as they landed on the ground. Then the branches broke off, and Arthur dived to one side to prevent himself from getting hit.

The tree split down the middle, groaning like an old man. Both halves dropped to the ground with a loud thud, stirring up the dry leaves and chunks of dirt. Squinting his eyes because of the dust, Arthur got on his knees. His friend was standing where the huge tree had been. He was dirty and skinny and not wearing any clothes. Arthur could see the skin stretched over his bones. Merlin looked like a skeleton. Bruises and cuts covered his whole body. While Arthur was still eying him with growing concern, Merlin’s legs buckled, and he collapsed in a heap, as if he was a puppet whose strings had been snapped. Arthur rushed to his side, managing to catch him, before his head could hit the ground. Merlin’s eyes were closed, but he was breathing; the small rise and fall of his chest clearly visible. Carefully, Arthur laid him down, snatching his still wet cloak to cover him with it. Arthur knew this was not the best idea, but he couldn’t bare looking at how vulnerable Merlin was.

“Merlin, are you with me?” Arthur asked, after he had sat down, and let Merlin’s head rest on his lap. His hair was matted and slightly curled, nearly hiding his prominent ears. Arthur brushed aside the strands that were falling into his eyes. His face had sunken in, making his cheekbones look like sharp blades. His lips were chapped and torn, quivering with cold and exhaustion.   
There was a sharp intake of breath, before Merlin forced his eyes open. 

“Ar…thur,” he mumbled, blinking slowly. He shifted, until he had freed his bony hand from the cloak. Arthur understood that Merlin wanted to feel him; that he wanted to make sure he was real. Smiling, Arthur interlaced their fingers once more. “You came back,” he breathed. Merlin looked exhausted, and as if he was about to pass out. His blue eyes were dull, and his skin had turned grey. There were dark smudges under his eyes, and Arthur asked himself, when Merlin had last slept.

“I never said goodbye to you,” Arthur replied.   
Merlin sighed, and shivered. 

“You should get some rest, Merlin. But before you go to sleep, can you do the fire trick again? You’re freezing, and my clothes are wet,” Arthur said, giving Merlin’s hand a light squeeze.

“Can try,” Merlin rasped. “Haven’t used…ma…gic in a long time.”  
Merlin’s whole body tensed, and he pressed his eyes shut, but when he opened them, they were glowing golden, and hot steam was rising from the cloak, which had dried.  
A short time later, some of the fallen branches piled themselves up. Merlin turned his head, and crackling flames licked at the wood.  
Merlin’s eyes drifted shut again, but he didn’t let go off Arthur’s hand. “Don’t leave me,” he slurred, before he went rigid.

“I won’t,” Arthur said to his sleeping form, pulling the now warm cloak tighter around his thin friend.   
What had happened to Merlin? He said he had waited for him, but how long had he been…gone?  
For Arthur it had felt like a few days; no more than two weeks. What if more time had passed? What if Merlin had been here all along?   
Stupid, loyal, Merlin. 

Arthur let his shoulders sag. Merlin had been at the lake, waiting for him. Not Gwen, none of his knights. Merlin.   
Merlin had never wanted to leave his side. He had always been there, supporting him, protecting him.   
He had never doubted him. He had never hesitated to risk his life for him. Merlin had always done everything to help him. Merlin had always been special. Even before Arthur had known about his powers. He had noticed it on their very first day.   
Tiredly, Arthur sighed. It had always been Merlin. Stretching out his cramping legs, Arthur leaned his back against the split trunk. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but as he watched the dancing flames, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Eventually, Arthur fell asleep. He dreamed of Merlin, who was still confined to the tree. His friend was screaming; begging for him to let him out.

Arthur jolted awake with a pounding head. Bright sunlight stung in his eyes, and he blinked rapidly. He looked down, but the red cape was gone, and Merlin wasn’t lying on the ground anymore.  
His heart skipped a beat, but before he could call out for his friend, he discovered him.  
Merlin had wrapped the cloak around his frail shoulders, and was picking berries from a nearby bush. His hands full of tiny purple fruits, he turned around. “Good morning, Arthur,” he said, his voice still hoarse but steady.

A sigh of relief escaped Arthur’s lips, and he stood up. Gratefully, he accepted the fruits, Merlin offered him.   
When was the last time he had eaten?   
After they had finished the berries and had had some water, they sat down in the grass, as far away from the fallen tree as possible. 

“What happened?” Arthur asked again, watching Merlin stiffen in return.

“I waited,” he repeated. “After you…were gone, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t…I didn’t want to…So I just waited for you.”

“For how long?” 

Merlin shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Did nobody come and look for you?” Arthur was surprised.

“No.”

“But…what about the tree? Who did this to you?” Arthur’s mouth was dry again, because he had thought when Merlin had killed Morgana, he had banished all evil from the world, too.

“I’m a son of the earth, Arthur,” Merlin said, and all of a sudden, he looked miserable.

“What…”

“The magic. My magic binds me to every rock, to every blade of grass, to every gurgling stream, and every cloud in the sky. There is no escape for me, Arthur. I belong to the earth, and the earth decided to claim me back.”

“But…” Arthur felt a lump blocking his throat, making his stomach feel queasy.

“It had always been my destiny to protect you, Arthur. To use my magic for you. But when you died, something died inside of me, too. I was useless. I didn’t know what to do. I felt lost, Arthur. My magic didn’t have a purpose anymore. It reached out the elements of this world, and chained itself to it.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

Feeling his cheeks blush slightly, Arthur lowered his head, and began to stare at the grass. A tiny spider dangled from the petal of a daisy.   
“You’re magic is very important to you, isn’t it? That’s why you lied to me,” he said quietly.

“I’m nothing without my magic, Arthur. I don’t just have magic, I am magic itself,” Merlin replied, fumbling with Arthur’s cloak.

“I will get used to it. Now that I know about your magic, you don’t have to hide anymore.”

Startled, Merlin looked up. “Don’t promise anything you can’t keep, Arthur. Things have changed. You have been gone for too long.”

“I never wanted to leave you like this, Merlin,” he said quietly. 

Merlin sighed, and it sounded as if he was carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders. “It was my fault. I should have stopped Mordred, and…”

“Shhhh.” Arthur jerked his head up, locking eyes with Merlin. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m back. I’m fine. Everything will be fine.”

Merlin’s lips curled into a smile. “I can’t lose you again, Arthur.”

“You won’t. I already said ‘Thank you’, but I can never make it up to you. I’m glad you are my friend. I…I don’t understand much about destiny, but I think…we are meant to be together.”

Merlin’s smile became a cheeky grin. “Are you actually talking about your feelings, Arthur?”

“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur’s cheeks turned bright red, and he swallowed hastily. “I need you, Merlin. Not as a servant,” he quickly added, when Merlin raised his eyebrows.   
“It was difficult for me, too. I sensed that you hid something from me. I tried to trust you, but there seemed to be this barrier between you and me. At first, I thought it was because I was a noble, but you… you never treated me like one. You were different, and I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you, but even though you encouraged and supported me, you weren’t honest with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said. “I won’t lie to you anymore, Arthur.”

“Do you love me?” Arthur suddenly blurted out. He expected Merlin to make fun of him or to deny any feelings for him vehemently. Instead, Merlin felt for his hands, and lightly grasped them. As Arthur nervously glanced at him, he could see that Merlin looked hurt.

“I lost count on how many times I was poisoned, captured, and injured. I dragged your heavy ass through the woods. I cried my eyes out, when you died. I stayed at the damn lake, and waited for your return. What do you think, you prat?” 

Arthur’s stomach did a funny backflip, and he pulled at Merlin’s hand, bringing him closer. “Never thought you would be such a romantic,” he snorted, before he leaned in, and cupped Merlin’s cheek with his other hand. Almost instantly, Merlin gave in, and pressed his face against Arthur’s warm hand. His skin was still cold and clammy, but a faint blush spread over his hollow cheeks, as Arthur traced the sharp bone underneath.

“At least I’m not a clotpole,” Merlin huffed. Slowly, he lifted his arm, and curled his fingers around the back of Arthur’s neck.

Arthur let out a tiny gasp, and then he kissing Merlin. His dry lips scratched against his, but still Arthur sealed them, running his hand through Merlin’s curls. Merlin closed his eyes, and pushed forward, and Arthur landed on his back with Merlin on top of him. He opened his mouth slightly in a surprised “Oh”, as Merlin’s teeth scraped over his bottom lip. Merlin began to giggle, and his laughter vibrated against his sensitive skin.   
Carefully, Arthur opened his eyes, and looked at Merlin, who still half-sitting, half-lying on his chest. The red cloak had slipped off his shoulders, leaving him shivering in the cool air.   
But his eyes were sparkling with joy and passion. A hint of gold in the deep blue. Magic. Merlin’s magic. 

“Thank you, Merlin. For everything,” Arthur whispered his voice thick with emotion. 

A single tear, glistening in the sun, fell from Merlin’s lashes, and then he kissed him again.

And this time, Arthur was magic, too.

~fin


End file.
